Little Snakes
by MaybeImAnAnniemal
Summary: - PERMANENT HIATUS. Updated version of this story is being posted soon!
1. Prologue: Origins

Prologue: Origins

(Wiltshire, England 1990)

A small girl with unruly, ebony curls and bright hazel eyes dramatically flopped onto an over-stuffed chair as she finished reading her book for the third time that day. The eight-year-old had been confined to the Conservatory at Malfoy Manor for at least an hour or three, having been tossed into the large, glass-walled room by her older brother Theodore and his best friends- Draco and Blaise. She was under strict instruction to stay put for fear the evil, scary house elf would catch her and bite her ears clean off!

The room was large and exorbitantly decorated, which was to be expected, considering the state of the Manor itself; a looming, oppressive statement of the wealth and power the Malfoy family possessed.

The small girl stood, her shoes making a slight tap, tap, tap against the marble flooring. She walked over to an animated globe twice the size of her head, on a stand that was charmed to adjust to the height of whomever stepped up to it. She grinned as the stand shrunk at least eight inches until she was face to face with the large orb. The globe itself had been charmed, presenting bright, twinkling, white lights in representation of all of the Magical Beings in the world, and slightly more muted green lights to represent all the muggles.

Small hands reached out to spin the globe to a particularly bright spot shining with white, glittering lights in the highlands of Scotland. The child grinned, her fingertips dancing over the spot, a smile on her face. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It wouldn't be long now, just under three years until she would get her letter in the mail, offering her a place amongst the other magical youth, the future of the Wizarding World.

More time passed as she explored the room. It was large, with two walls made of glass looking out over the impressive grounds of the Malfoy Estate. Perfectly maintained landscaping covered everything from intimidating statues draped in moss and ivy, to pristine flower beds, each punctuated with an enchanted garden gnome. She knew from experience that the horrid little creatures would give an ungodly screech should you attempt to pluck a bud from a plant or Merlin forbid, walk in the flower beds. The large ornate chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting glittering lights across the room, giving just enough light to make the atmosphere serene and reflective. Two massive bookcases manned the opposite walls, though the girl didn't have the patience for reading such grown up things, and it wasn't long before the small girl found herself needing the restroom. She suddenly felt nervous, knowing there wasn't a toilet in the Conservatory, and it had been quite some time since she'd heard her brother and his friends nearby.

She tiptoed towards the door, as if even being near it was an offense itself. She turned the handle gingerly, cringing when a loud creak wheezed from the old hinges. A small curly head poked out into the hallway. "Theo?" she whispered, turning to look down each side of the hallway, not a single soul anywhere in sight. "Theo? Theo, I have to go to the bathroom!" she said, her voice a little bit louder than before, the girl's nerves serving to make her need more urgent. "Theo please!" the child finally huffed and stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind her. Surely the boys couldn't fault her for needing to use the restroom?

She remembered the way towards the fireplace in the main foyer, from which they'd arrived, so she went in the opposite direction, wishing it was common practice to have restroom signs in homes like it was in Diagon Alley.

Turning a corner, the child let out a small squeak as she came face to face with a mounted head of a rather terrifying looking beast. Taking measured steps backward, she continued down the hallway, spying a stream of light coming from a barely opened door into the darkened hallway. Maybe there was someone inside who could tell her if there was a lavatory nearby? She walked towards the door, relief flooding her as she heard voices coming from within.

Standing outside the door, she peeked in, seeing two men wearing casual robes, one with long platinum blonde hair and cold, grey eyes. The child recognized him immediately- Mr. Malfoy, Draco's father. The other had shoulder length stringy black hair and a rather pointed nose. She'd seen the man before on occasion, but had never met him personally. He was a close friend of her father, and Draco's too, apparently.

"Surely retirement isn't a foreign concept to anyone over there? How many teachers do they have over there at that school, over a hundred years of age? Its insane!" Mr. Malfoy boomed; his brow narrowed in irritation. "My son will be joining the student body next year, and the lack of knowledgeable, capable staff at that school is an embarrassment!" he barked, causing the child to shrink back and step on a floorboard that let out a whine of protest. She flinched, and cowered back behind the door. She was terrified of Mr. Malfoy in his pleasant moods, so the child was certain she had no desire to speak with him whatsoever when he was in a cross one.

She dared to peek back around the door, her eyes widening when she found the man she feared staring right at her.

"Draco! How many times have I told you to not eavesdrop on my private conversations?!" the man boomed, flicking his hand, sending the door flying open, knocking the girl onto her bottom with a loud cry, her hands covering her face.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I was just looking for the bathroom!" she said, tears involuntarily streaming down her cheeks.

Mr. Malfoy sighed, pressing two fingers to the bridge of his nose. He raised his wand to his adam's apple and called out, his voice amplified by magic. "DRACO!"

The girl kept her face covered, her tears and blush too traitorous to show. She heard the loud pounding of someone running towards the office. They skidded to a stop, and a loud moan left the person behind her. "Thalia? How did you- Nevermind. Father, my apologies, she was supposed to be in the Conservatory," the 10-year-old huffed, his arms crossed about his chest.

"And I believe I overheard your mother ask you and your friends to keep an eye on her," the man with the pointed nose stated, rising an eyebrow at the boy, nodding his head towards the girl cowering in the doorway. "Fix it."

The boy huffed, his lips narrowed into a scowl as he tapped the girl's shoulder, offering her his hand and pulling her up. Thalia clamored onto her knees and stood, brushing off her bum and wiping her nose. "I-I'm sorry I bothered you, Mister Malfoy," Thalia stuttered, feeling incredibly awkward as Draco grabbed her elbow and dragged her out of the room.

"I used a charmed key on that door, Thalia, how'd you get out?" the boy asked harshly, feeling his throat tighten. He didn't like the idea that the small, breakable girl had been so close to his father.

"I dunno… just pulled I guess. Wait, you locked me in?" she cried incredulously. "That's not nice at all!"

The boy shrugged. "Didn't want you wandering about, lot of good it did anyhow." he said, opening a door and gesturing to the toilet. "There you go, the kitchens are down the hall on the left if you're hungry," he said, moving to walk in the opposite direction. "Oh, and by the way—congratulations on your first bit of magic, Little Snake," he said, smirking at her, and the girl beamed as she ran into the toilet, closing the door behind her.


	2. Chapter One: Beginnings

Chapter One: Beginnings

(London, England 1993)

"I swear to God Thalia if I have to come in there after you…" a disgruntled 13-year-old Theo Nott huffed outside a changing room in Madam Malkin's, waiting on his younger sister.

"Are they supposed to be this long? My knees are itchy," the girl whined, tugging at her charcoal grey uniform skirt uncomfortably.

"How am I supposed to know? Do I look like I've ever worn a skirt before?" the boy groaned, looking longingly out the window at the ice cream parlor across the street.

"You really don't want me to answer that," the 11-year-old quipped pulling up her green and grey tartan knee socks, flinching at the offensively itchy material. Excited as she was to be leaving for Hogwarts on the first of September, she was thoroughly unenthused with the uniform.

"Oi! Look who's got jokes now? Hurry up, I'd like to leave here before I'm ninety."

"Alright, alright I'm nearly done!" the brunette snapped, tightening her tie and unlocking the door to the changing stall, stepping out, yanking at the back of her skirt, awkwardly. "I think the skirt is too big, surely they don't mean for it to fall mid-calf," she said, rolling her eyes at her brother's vacant stare. "Honestly, just go on. I can meet you at Florean's when I've finished," Thalia huffed, crossing her arms about her chest.

"Really? You'll be okay?" Theo said, his voice hopeful.

"I'm sure I'll be able to survive the fifteen minutes it'll take to fix my skirt and pay. Theo, just go. You're annoying me," she said, holding out her hand where her brother nearly threw the coin purse at her before he clamored out the door like a dog let off its leash.

She went to the mirror, wondering if she was being a bit presumptuous; buying a Slytherin Uniform before she'd been sorted. The girl shook her head and smirked; probably not, considering the last person in her family to not be sorted into Slytherin had been a great-great-great Aunt twice removed about forty years ago. That, and if she somehow wasn't sorted into Slytherin, she wouldn't have to worry about a replacement uniform, because her father would kill her before she ever got the chance to wear it. The girl crinkled her nose and grabbed a roll of green ribbon off the wall. She'd need it to tie up her monstrosity of a hairdo. It could apparently rival a bookworm named Granger's "rat nest of mud brown tangles". She didn't know what that meant, or why Draco felt the need to tell her, but she supposed she'd figure it out soon enough.

After getting Madam Malkin's guidance on the proper skirt size and paying for her five sets of uniforms, the ebony haired girl found herself walking into Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, groaning internally upon the sight of her brother and Blaise Zabini having an ice cream eating contest. Idiots.

(London, England September 1st, 1993)

It didn't matter that Thalia Nott had seen her brother and his friends rush at the cement wall of the charmed platform the past two years. Thalia Nott found it utterly ridiculous to run full force at a giant block of brick with a rolling cart. With that amount of momentum you'd be asking for a concussion upon arrival on the other side, if you asked her. She stood, stunned still staring up at the sign that plainly said "Platform 9 ¾" in red lettering. She swallowed thickly, the neck of her shirt suddenly feeling too tight.

Theo had already run through, effectively abandoning her. She hadn't expected anything less. He was forced to be a parent when they were home, just like she was forced to be a house-keeper and a chef; the perks of having a father with a distinct taste for firewhiskey, and a distinct lack of paternal instinct. So, it wasn't a surprise to see him go from protective caregiver to carefree 13-year-old boy as soon as he saw his friends. That's how he was supposed to be after all.

She wasn't sure how long she stood with her cart in front of the platform; at least twenty minutes, considering the number of trains that had passed her.

The girl politely declined when a rather worried Security Guard asked if she was lost, and ended up frowning, deciding that she was definitely too chicken to run through the platform. No, she'd much rather go to Hogwarts next year anyway, when she was older, wiser, more distinguished.

She pushed her cart over to a bench, sitting and staring into the carrier that held a regal looking white cat. He was a large beast, with almond shaped amber eyes and a pink nose, long silky white fur and with just looking at him, you'd never guess he was a complete moron. The cat had literally run into a door the other day, and when he found he couldn't simply walk through it, the animal backed up and tried again. She'd named him Hatter after the Mad Hatter in her favorite book, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. He was just as clumsy, and probably just as mad as the Mad Hatter himself, so it seemed a fitting name.

The cat meowed at the girl, who frowned. "I promise we'll go next year. I just don't think either of us are ready for this kind of commitment. Do you?"

Meow.

"Well I'm glad you have that much self confidence, but not all of us are that self assured," Thalia huffed, turning away from the animal, crossing her legs.

She heard someone clear their throat behind her, to which a crimson flush flooded her cheeks. She tensed, not moving, hoping if she ignored them, they'd go away.

"So, you're speaking to cats now. That's new," a voice she just knew was accompanied by a smirk chortled behind her.

Thalia groaned. Perfect. "Yes, we get it, I'm odd and a little bit crazy. Now could you please go run off and do whatever it is that you do? I'm a little busy here," she said, the frown evident in her tone.

She didn't dare look up when she felt someone sit next to her. "Yes, I can see that," Draco Malfoy said, tugging at one of the girl's ringlets. "You do know the train leaves in forty-five minutes, right?" the blond said, gesturing towards the platform.

"No, that is brand new information. Please tell me more," the 11-year-old dead panned, looking up at him with a glare. "I know full well when the train leaves. I just won't be on it."

"While I'm sure dearest Teddy will simply be thrilled with that decision," the boy began sarcastically, "You were gabbing my ear off last weekend and driving me mad with all your questions about Hogwarts. What changed?" he asked, still trying to figure out exactly why he cared. There'd always been something about the small curly top that drew him in, and he'd always been confused as to why. The other girls in their group had never influenced him one way or the other, much less caused him to care for them.

"I'mscaredtorunontotheplatformIdon'twannadie," the girl rushed out, squishing her words together.

"Let's try that again, this time in English, Little Snake," the third year said, rolling his eyes at her.

"I'm scared to run at the platform. What stops you on the other side from running into something and getting a concussion?" she asked, feeling about as foolish as she sounded.

"Such a little worry wart," the Malfoy heir said, snickering. "Come on then. I'll run with you this time. It's honestly not a big deal, Lia," he said, bumping shoulders with her. "I'm still alive, aren't I? I've done it twice now."

"Yes, but you're not exactly smart enough for there to be a noticeable difference were you to have gotten brain damage," she said, the beginnings of a smile on her face.

"Oh, Thalia, I'm wounded, truly," the boy said, poking her side. "Let's go. We can't be late." He said, pulling her off the bench and dragging her over to the platform.

The petite girl tensed, readying herself for the imminent pain she was surely about to experience. She looked to Draco. "So, we just run?"

The boy nodded. "Yeah. We just run," he said, looking around him anxiously before offering the girl his hand. He may care, but he had a reputation to uphold. He couldn't be seen actually helping a little unsorted first year. It'd be social suicide.

Thalia grabbed his hand in a vice-like grip as they began jogging, picking up speed. As she neared the wall, she slammed her eyes shut, bracing for impact. When it didn't come and she felt Draco pull her to a stop, the brunette gingerly opened her eyes. "I'm alive?!"

"Of course. It's magic," he said, chuckling. "Oi! Crabbe! C'mere you big oaf!" he shouted, as a large blob of a boy waddled over to them.

"Malfoy! Ey, have a good summer?"

"My summer was of no importance. The bags?" he said, gesturing to his trolley and Thalia's as well.

"Draco, you don't have to-" she was cut off by his hand, picking up the carrier that held her cat and handing it to her, as well as her knapsack, holding her robes to change into on the train.

"That's all you need with you. The rest goes in the baggage car," he said, walking over to a large group of boys with Theo near the center. "You should really keep better track of her. I found her on the muggle side of the gate having a panic attack, Nott," Malfoy snapped, shoving Theo's shoulder roughly.

"Excuse me for believing she could accomplish running twenty yards without me," he said, narrowing his gaze at the taller boy. Thalia flushed at the insult, staring down at her shoes, wishing the ground would swallow her whole.

"Well maybe you should've checked before you ran off to sniff up Daphne Greengrass' skirt!" Draco boomed, pushing his chest out, standing up straight to his full height, a good four inches taller than the older Nott.

"Gods, Malfoy what are you, my father? Lighten up a bit… jeez."

"You both realize I'm right here, don't you?" she asked, and soon realized her question was rhetorical as they'd both been distracted from their argument and taken away by the group. She stood around awkwardly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She went over to the conductor, panicking a bit as he took her ticket and showed her to the First Year Cars. She'd forgotten she wouldn't be able to ride with her brother. She'd be alone.

The girl found an empty car, setting her cat on the seat and struggling to reach the storage above them for her bag. After a minute or so of hopeless stretching, she settled for tucking the bag under the seat. Thalia pulled her wand out of her jacket pocket, staring at it. It was still a little daunting. Fourteen inches, made of Hawthorn with a Phoenix Feather Core. She swished it experimentally, and giggled when the door to her cat's cage swung open. The feline stared at her balefully, looking bored. She raised an eyebrow at him. "Well I know it's not all that impressive, but I'm not too skilled yet, am I?" she asked him, looking out the window, and an excited grin on her face.

(Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 1993)

This must be what cows feel like, Thalia mused as she and the other hundred or so first years were herded off the grounds and into the castle, clamoring down a staircase to the entryway before the Great Hall.

The castle fit no description she'd ever heard. It was massive and regal, with ornate stonework, which would have seemed daunting and cold, if it weren't for the vines of ivy growing along the walls. The lights were all golden, it seemed, giving the large opposing structure warmth. It exuded security, safety, and contentment. The only proper description, she thought, was the one Theo had given her in his first letter home during his first year.

"I know it's going to be difficult alone with father these next years, Thalia. Just hold on, because Hogwarts really is all we've been waiting for. It feels like coming home. I promise. Hogwarts will be our home, okay?"

The dark haired child grinned as they were finally ushered into the Great Hall, staring at the bewitched ceiling, marveling at the floating candles and stars she was finally seeing in person.

As the first years waited for Professor McGonagall to call their names to be sorted, it was all Thalia could do to keep from projectile vomiting on the marble flooring from nerves. She'd never been good at making friends, and she'd only just realized how truly horrible it would be to end up in any other house except Slytherin.

Well, not horrible. The Sorting Hat knows what it's doing, so if she was truly supposed to be somewhere else it couldn't possibly be the end of the world…. Right?

"Thalia Nott!" Minerva McGonagall's regal voice carried out over the Great Hall, and the dark haired child felt a shiver run up her spine.

As she took careful steps towards the stool next to the Gryffindor Head of House, she had to fight back a smile as she heard at least three male voices shout and holler, with a distinctly Malfoy voice screaming, "THAT'S RIGHT THALIA. SHOW EM WHAT LITTLE SNAKES ARE MADE OF!" over the polite applause the rest of the student body and staff awarded each new student.

Her friends were idiots, but at least they were decently sweet idiots.

She sat on the stool, and was unable to look at the hundreds of eyes peering right at her. So, with shut eyes, she felt the hat be placed upon her head.

"So, it seems you already have a fanclub over at the darkest House, hmmm?" she heard the deep timbre of the Hat's voice waft over the crowd, effectively silencing everyone.

"N-no.. I-I mean… they're my friends. Darkest house?" the child whispered, her head dipping slightly, confused and slightly embarrassed.

"And a Nott as well? You come from a long line of incredibly intelligent magic, little Nott," the Hat said, but for some reason, that didn't sound like a compliment.

"Er… thank you?" she responded, unsure of what was taking the Hat so long.

"I'm allowed to take my time every now and again, especially with someone as challenging as yourself." the Hat roared, causing the child to flinch. "You're much too…. Cunning for Gryffindor, oh and definitely too witty for Hufflepuff, no that's a much more simple group of youngsters…" the Hat mused, and Thalia had never felt more exposed. The Hat hadn't talked this much with the other students. "I suppose I could toss you in Ravenclaw, you've got the smarts, indeed… but you're too passionate for that," she felt her shoulders relax. "So yes, I guess you get to carry on the family tradition, what was it? Ah, yes, Little Snake. A fitting moniker. SLYTHERIN," The Hat boomed, sending the entire Slytherin table to their feet, roars of applause and shouting carrying through the Great Hall.

Thalia beamed, jumping out of the stool as soon as the Hat left her head, running over to her friends and hugging Theo. As she sat down she could have sworn she felt someone tug one of her curls, but when she turned around to look, no one was around her.

She sat at her house's table, and realized she was wrong before. Hogwarts may be her new neighborhood, but Slytherin was definitely her new home. Theo was right. They finally had a home.


	3. Chapter Two: Friends

Chapter Two: Friends

Sighing over her Transfiguration essay for the fourth time that day, Thalia Nott gave up. She slammed her book shut, rolled up her scrolls of parchment, and forcefully shoved them back into her knapsack. "Bloody boring… stupid assignment… waste of my time," she muttered, throwing all of her things into her bag, huffing and puffing the whole way. She'd never admit that the concept of transfiguring one's hat into a paper airplane seemed stupid and utterly confusing to her, or that so far all she'd managed to do was get the hat into a crumpled up piece of paper. No, not ever.

She was granted a much wanted distraction in the form of Draco Malfoy. He came bursting into the common room, hair disheveled and robes wrinkled and spattered with mud. Crabbe and Goyle stumbled in after him, one buffoon holding his books, the other holding his bag. Why the heir never combined the two was beyond her.

"Filthy Gryffindors! So damn rude! The gall of these morons I swear, Goyle…" The boy shouted, his anger so strong it resulted in accidental magic, the common room fire surging—the flames erupting so large they licked the frayed ends of the tapestry above the fireplace. Thalia flinched as she felt the heat from the flame, which matched the rage in his eyes—wait, did one look swollen? The girl looked around to see the rest of the students that had been lounging on the couches had fled, leaving her the only bystander to the boy's temper tantrum. "It's disgusting! The things they're allowed to get away with! You know if any of us down in the dungeons punched a student, we'd get detentions for a month! But perfect Potter and his Potty Gang get a free pass!"

Thalia rolled her eyes. Draco seemed obsessed with Harry Potter and his friends, giving them a hard time, and getting frustrated when he didn't win their little spats—which to his agitation—and her amusement- was often. "Twenty galleons says you actually deserved to be punched Draco," she called from her spot reclined back on one of the over stuffed couches, grinning from ear to ear, her arms crossed behind her head casually.

The blond wasn't facing her, so she had the pleasure of seeing his shoulders tense, his fists clench, and his back stiffen. The girl could already picture the scowl now firmly implanted on her friend's face.

He turned to face her slowly, and she was rewarded with the scowl she knew he'd wear. "Have something to say, first year?" he spat, stalking over to her couch, towering over her, and had it been anyone else, they'd probably be intimidated.

"No, I believe I just spoke my piece," the girl said, grinning smugly. "You did open your mouth and say something stupid, right? That's why Potter… no… Weasley. That's why Weasley punched you. Correct?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at the older boy, seeing his face tinge with red.

Hearing snickers behind Draco, she focused her attention on the two gargoyles flanking her friend. "What? Did one of you fart or something?" she asked, never having the patience for the two idiots.

"No! Its just that... well… it weren't Weasley tha' did the punchin'." Crabbe said, blushing and rocking back and forth on his large feet.

"Wait… you mean… Potter? He doesn't seem the type…" Thalia said, frowning. Surely the oaf was confused.

"No! The mudblood! The girl one that Potter keeps around like a pet!" Goyle cheered, grinning jovially, as if proud of his ability to distinguish a girl from a boy.

"Wait… surely you don't mean—Granger? Hermione Granger the bookworm?" she asked, fighting back a snicker herself as she watched Draco avert his gaze. "It WAS her! You got punched by a girl?" she asked, trying to decide between laughing at her friend, and being furious with Granger. She _punched _him? How positively vulgar! No matter what he did—she was sure he'd done something to merit the backlash—but to punch him? Barbaric and unacceptable. The mudblood would pay for what she'd done; Thalia would make certain of it.

"Shut it. Just… sod off the lot of you," he moaned, stomping up the steps to his dormitory.

Thalia stood, turning to Draco's lackeys. "Don't follow us, understood?" she ordered, and seeing the big dopes nod, she followed, always finding it curious how boys couldn't get into the girls' dorms, but girls had no trouble at all climbing the steps to the boys' dormitory.

She saw a few third years lounging around in Draco's shared room. The fearsome first year pointed to the door. "Out! The lot of you! MOVE. Unless you'd like me to tell my brother you were being mean to me," the girl pouted, feigning a whimper. The whole house had a deep fear of her brother, and though she wasn't exactly sure why, it was definitely a benefit to having the last name Nott. The first year grinned to herself as all the stragglers leapt up and left the room.

The curtains to Draco's bed were drawn shut. She left him be and went over to the sink, and wet a washcloth with warm water. Thalia moved over to his four poster bed, pulling back the curtains. "Here. For your face. So it doesn't swell too badly," she muttered, pressing the cloth into his hand.

"You're not supposed to be up here."

"Like that's ever stopped me before…" she chuckled, frowning as she got a better look at his face. "What did you do, Draco? She hit you hard," Thalia whispered, fighting the urge to touch the swelling bruise on his cheekbone.

"We went to go watch the execution of that bloody pigeon that attacked me," Draco began, sitting up slightly, his lips drawn tightly into a scowl.

"Buckbeak the Hippogriff… I remember. Your father was very cross about that one," she whispered, knowing better than to stop him while he was sharing—a rare occurrence to begin with.

"Potter and his minions were there too, so I asked them if they'd come to see the show…" Draco snarled, his fist clenching. "She called me a cockroach and I thought she was going to hex me, but when she lowered her wand to walk away the brat doubled back and sucker punched me," he mumbled, pale skin flushing crimson. "It was humiliating."

"She shouldn't have punched you… that's true- but you know better than to provoke her," the small girl whispered, frowning. "You care too much about them. They get under your skin far too easily," she noted, lifting the cloth from his eye to get a better look. "It's definitely going to bruise, but I'm going to grab Daphne Greengrass… see if she knows some cosmetic charm to hide it- she seems vain enough to know something like that. I'll say it's for my acne or something…"

"Why are you helping me? This gives you enough ammo to extort me for months," Draco said, raising an eyebrow and wincing as it tugged on his sore eye.

"I may decide to do that, yet, Malfoy," the child said, grinning. "But deserved or not, I'd rather she hexed you. Using your fists to punish someone is so childish and barbaric… we'd have been whipped if we did that at home," the girl said, shuddering slightly," Thalia seethed, furious. The child clenched her fists, her eyes alight with a vengeful burn that Draco knew too well.

"You're a first year, Snake. Don't be daft," the boy muttered quietly, his embarrassed anger vanishing from his face, replaced with careful concern.

"I may be a first year, but I'm a rich first year, and until I've learned to do my own dirty work myself, I can certainly pay to have it done for me," she snapped, standing.

Draco sighed. "Thalia, just sit down. Merlin, you can't do anything," the boy groaned, closing his eyes and draping his arm across his forehead. "You're making my headache worse…"

What he didn't say is that it was nice to have someone care, even if that someone was a bratty little princess of a first year. He'd never had people want to protect him. Just do his bidding because they feared him—err, his father.

"Well I'm not just going to sit idly by while they high five about attacking you like cavemen!" she snapped, crossing her hands about her chest, huffing irritably.

"Look, I'll write a letter to my father, and this will be dealt with," he muttered, looking away from her.

"No! You can't tell your father!" Thalia screeched, small arms tightening around the pillow she'd pulled into her lap, the small girl's eyes wide with fear.

"Why the bloody hell not? They _struck me, _Thalia," Draco spat, his tone venomous.

"Yes! And he'll do worse if he finds out you let them!" she said worriedly, her voice dropping as if Lucius Malfoy could hear them all the way from Scotland. "Draco…"

"_Shut it. You don't know anything. _Are we clear?-Not a damn thing!" he snarled, his gaze icy cold as he recoiled, moving to stand. "I think you should leave now."

"I didn't mean, I just… Draco, he's not a nice man—"

"Well that man is my father, and I'll not listen to this!" he gestured toward the door. "Leave now, or I'll be forced to have Crabbe escort you out."

Stunned, the child's eyes filled with tears. "I-I just didn't want you to get hurt anymore. I-I wouldn't say anything," she whispered, her voice broken and almost pleading. She turned and ran from the dorm, pushing Goyle out of the way as she fled down the stairs and out of the common room, taking off into the labyrinth of the dungeon.

The next day, Thalia paid Astoria Greengrass ten galleons for her sister's cosmetic charm; the younger Greengrass was only a year ahead of the first year and for some reason, her elder sister had a distinct distain for the littlest Nott.

She gave Crabbe five sickles to tell Tracey Davis that Draco Malfoy required a vial of her befuddlement draught, and to leave it with Goyle- who Thalia bribed with a copy of Wild Witches Weekly (collective shudder, shall we?) and to finish it off, she gave 7th year Marcus Flint a whopping hundred galleons. His mission to terrify a Gryffindor Prefect into snagging Hermione Granger's knapsack and deliver it to Goyle, who was to have everything waiting on her in the broom cupboard down the hall from the portrait hole to their common room.

The plan was simple, lace her books and parchment with the potion, and possibly soak her entire bag in the draught, depending on time. The effects wouldn't have her severely confused, but would definitely cause the little know-it-all some embarrassing bumbles in class, her compulsion to answer every question would leave her looking foolish and simple.

Thalia waited until after midnight prefect rounds, knowing she had until two AM until they'd return. She snuck down the stairs and out of the common room, the dungeon hallway dark and empty. As the girl neared the broom cupboard, she felt a hand close down on her shoulder. Jumping slightly and turning around, she let out a loud sigh.

"My office. Now," Professor Snape ordered in his nasally monotone.

Thalia grumbled and followed, her arms crossed in front of her petulantly.

Severus Snape knew Thalia Nott would be a difficult student. She had the intelligence of her brother, but it was paired with a gall and tenacity of being the youngest, female daughter of a rich, pureblood family. To say he was less than surprised to hear all around the dungeons about her little plot that she was less than clever about executing would be an understatement. Though, show him an eleven-year-old that was able to execute something like this secretly and he'd be very impressed.

The slender man lifted Hermione Granger's bag, a bottle of a badly brewed Befuddlement Draught, and the copy of Wild Witch Weekly he'd confiscated from Gregory Goyle onto his desk. The middle aged wizard sat behind it, weaving his long fingers together in front of him patiently. "Care to explain yourself?"

Severus fought the urge to smirk when the dark haired little witch scoffed. She huffed and rolled her eyes as she crossed her legs. "Goyle. Oaf. Should have gone with Crabbe. Bloody snitch."

"Actually, of the two, your safest bet was Goyle, though why you'd trust either of them to pull something like this off effectively shows your arrogance and foolishness. You should be glad I'm the one who found Gregory practically skipping down the halls with this trash, instead of any other unassuming staff member," the teacher scolded, gesturing to the dirty magazine. "Where did you even get this?" he asked, flipping it over so the witch shimmying on the cover was face down on the desk.

The child shrugged. "I found it," her cheeks darkened to an unflattering shade of crimson.

"Yes, let's pretend that was believable and get on to the meat of it. I'm exhausted and you should've been in bed long ago," he muttered, shaking his head. "What did you intend to do with this potion?" he asked, lifting the bottle, inspecting its color through the tinted glass.

"She _punched _Draco, Professor, with _no _consequences! I was just going to make her a bit confused, get her to embarrass herself when she can't help but interrupt a teacher and all that comes out of her mouth is nonsense," she exclaimed, fighting the urge to lift her nose, a bad habit that she'd been trying to curb.

"Miss Nott, I'm sure you've already discovered that Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter are the three students who could light the school on fire, admit their wrongdoing, and not be punished," he drolled, yet again fighting the urge to roll his eyes. "Life at Hogwarts will be much simpler for you if you learn to accept that."

"Potter's the Chosen One, not Granger, why's she so bloody special?" the girl spat, unable to contain her repulsion for the girl.

"You could say she fell in with the right people," the Head of House lamented, tilting his head to the side, eyeing the young girl in front of him. "There's a lesson to take from this—you are the company you keep, Ms. Nott."

"But she's a Mud-"

"I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you," the man's tone was suddenly sharp and serious, rather than the irritated understanding it had held before, holding a glint of residual anger and resentment that couldn't possibly have anything to do with the girl in question.

Thalia gulped. "Sorry, Professor," she even had the good decency to look down at her clasped hands in embarrassment.

"You're not to do anything more to exact whatever revenge you feel Ms. Granger deserves," Snape ordered, his gaze narrowed on the girl. "You behaved stupidly, and had anyone else caught you, you'd have detention for a month."

The girl sighed. "He's my friend," she muttered quietly, wringing her hands together. "His eye is purple, Professor. It was barbaric and cruel. We're magical. Its so primitive to strike someone with your hands," Thalia's voice was small, concerned and frustrated.

The man sighed. He felt for the girl, as much as it pained him to admit. He knew the struggle of seeing someone you cared about suffering, and feeling helpless on the sidelines. "How d'you think Ms. Granger would feel about an E on her next Potions assignment?" he almost surprised himself, the words slipping out before he'd fully thought them over.

The child's face was priceless, her emotions flittering over it quickly like a slideshow; shock, surprise, uncertainty, and finally settling on a dazzling grin that slid into a smirk. "Oh, Professor she'd _hate _that!" the girl practically bounced in her seat. "You mean it? You'd do that? For Draco?" she asked, her eyes hopeful as she looked across the desk at her Head of House.

Severus nodded, unsure why he was offering something so trivial to an eleven year old. Perhaps he was in a giving mood. Perhaps he was just as irritated with Dumbledore for picking favorites as he was with the Gryffindor Trio for being nearly beyond reproach. Or maybe, unbeknownst to even himself, he saw a bit of himself in the girl—chasing revenge for her loved ones, beyond reason, caution, or rules.


End file.
